


Worth Fighting For

by mldrgrl



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, First fights, Fluff, new romance - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-28 09:25:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16238789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mldrgrl/pseuds/mldrgrl
Summary: Blossoming msr.  They’re still feeling their way into a relationship and it isn’t easy.





	Worth Fighting For

Things don’t change all that much just because they’re sleeping together, something Mulder is both relieved, yet disappointed by.  He would’ve thought, at the very least, he could expect more of Scully’s time away from work. It seems, however, that what they’re trying to do is to fit a ‘relationship,’ if you can even call it that, into the empty parts of their schedules.  

 

It’s Friday evening and Mulder is a bit melancholy at the idea of going home alone, but Scully has laundry to do and a medical journal to catch up on she said it would be better if they planned on seeing each other tomorrow.  She tells him not to stay too late before she leaves and takes a few moments to rub the knot of his tie between her fingers as she stares at his mouth. She won’t kiss him here, because Not At the Office is the first rule of this change of the status quo.  He’ll respect it, but it doesn’t stop him from pursing his lips for her.

 

Briefly, she smiles, and he catches a faint blush that darkens the apples of her cheeks before she turns away.  The soft little snort of air through her nose and the dip of her chin tells him she’s amused and maybe a little embarrassed.  She bids him good night and he leans back in his chair, twirling a pencil between his fingers as he daydreams a Friday evening where they walk out of the office together.

 

He doesn’t wait that long to shut down his computer after Scully leaves, ten minutes tops.  He hums his way to the parking garage, bouncing his keys in his hand. He might be melancholy, but he’ll be seeing Scully tomorrow night so he has something to look forward to at least.

 

Friday evening traffic is the usual nightmare, but the curve for the 14th Street bridge is in his near future and from there it should be smooth sailing to home.  His cell phone rings and he reaches across the seat to fish it out of his jacket pocket.

 

“Mulder,” he says.

 

“Mulder, it’s me.”

 

“Hey, Scully.”

 

“Tell me these are from you.”

 

He smiles to himself just a little.  “I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

 

“Mulder…”  There’s a slight edge to her voice, one that makes the corners of his mouth drop into a frown.

 

“I assume you mean the flowers?  Yes, they’re from me.”

 

“Why would you send me a bouquet of...are these violets?”

 

“Why not?”

 

“I don’t need you to do things like this, Mulder.”

 

“Do things like what?”  His ears grow hot with irritation and he actually has to pull the car over just before the bridge because he’s tensing up and losing focus on the road.

 

“I don’t know.  They startled me.  I didn’t know where they came from.”

 

“You could’ve just read the card.”

 

“There wasn’t a card.”

 

“Well, I guess it fell off then, I don’t know what to tell you.”

 

“Just...you don’t have to.”

 

“Got it.”  He disconnects the call, too annoyed to continue the conversation.  He doesn’t know if he’s ever purposefully hung up on Scully before out of anger.  It seems like such a silly thing to be upset about. They’re flowers for God’s sake.  It’s not like he hired a singing telegram to jump out of the bushes and profess his love for her on his behalf.

 

For a few moments, he stares at the phone in his hand and then he speed dials her home phone.  She picks up after four rings and he wonders if she’s contemplating letting her answering machine pick up.

 

“Yes?” is her greeting.

 

“Fine,” he says.  “I don’t have to. You don’t need me to.  But, what about me, Scully? What if I have to?  What if I want to?”

 

He can hear her sigh and then he really loses it.

 

“If I want to send you flowers on a Friday evening just because I want to send you flowers, I’m going to send you flowers!” he yells.  “And if I want to recite poetry to you or or or give you a book of those stupid love coupons that say things like good for one free foot massage or or draw hearts on Post-Its and stick them on your bathroom mirror, I’m gonna do it!”

 

There’s silence on the other end of the line and Mulder wonders for a moment if she’s hung up on him.  He blows out a breath and then disconnects the call and bangs his head back against headrest. He’s hot all over and his jaw hurts from gritting his teeth.  The car feels like it’s stifling him and he yanks roughly at his tie to pull it loose from his throat and unbutton the top of his shirt.

 

On his lap, the phone rings and he doesn’t pick it up right away, letting Scully wonder if maybe he’s going to let it go to voicemail or not.  Finally, he snatches it up and presses it to his ear.

  
“What?” he barks.

 

“What did the card say?” she asks.  “The one that wasn’t there.”

 

“It said, ‘Have a good night, xo, M.’”

 

“Why violets?”

 

“Because I don’t know your favorite flower.”

 

“I like crocuses.”

 

“Duly noted,” he mutters.  His anger deflates a little and he listens to Scully breathe on the other end of the phone.  She sighs again, but it’s quieter than before. “The crocus symbolizes cheerfulness in the language of flowers,” he blurts.  “Did you know that?”

 

“No.  And what do violets symbolize?”

 

“Uh, I didn’t memorize the list or anything,” he mumbles.  His ears burn again, but not from anger, from chagrin.

 

“I see.”

 

“Did you know that even though the symbolism of flowers is largely considered as Victorian, it can be dated back to early Chinese dynasties?”

 

“No, I didn’t.”

 

“It was the wife of a Turkish ambassador that introduced it to English society in the early 1700s, but the popularity of it really took off when Queen Victoria spread it throughout the British empire.  She was a pretty big fan. Botany became all the rage and young ladies began studying what they coined as floriography.”

 

“So what do violets symbolize, Mulder?”

 

“Well...the blue violet symbolizes faithfulness.”

 

“And the white?”

 

“The translation’s not perfect, but something along the lines of asking the recipient to take a chance on happiness.”

 

“I see.”

 

“Not that...I mean, it’s not to imply there’s any  _ un _ happiness happening anywhere.”

 

“I should let you go.”

 

“Right.  Laundry and medical journal stuff to do.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Okay.  I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 

“Mmhm.”

 

When Mulder hangs up the phone this time he feels a little downcast.  He’s never had an attempt at romance backfire on him so badly. Basically, he just yelled at Scully that he would do whatever he wanted and then implied she was unhappy.  He feels like a horse’s ass and needs to apologize. He calls her back and breathes a silent sigh of relief when she answers on only one and a half rings.

 

“Mulder,” she says.

 

“That’s my line,” he answers.  “Look, I just want you to know that I’m sorry.  You can throw the flowers out since you don’t like them.  I won’t do something like that again without asking first.  I hope I didn’t...didn’t ruin your night or anything. That wasn’t my intent.”

 

“I never said I didn’t like the flowers.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Just that I don’t need...I don’t need you to…”

 

“I know you don’t, Scully, but that’s not the point.”

 

“No, I suppose it’s not.”

 

“Good night, Scully.”

 

“Good night, Mulder.”

 

He hangs up and sets his phone down on the seat next to him.  The sun is low in his rearview mirror and the street lights have all come on at the mouth of the bridge.  He’s a heartbeat away from putting the car in gear and pulling back onto the road when his phone rings again.

 

“Mulder,” he chirps blithely.

 

“I was thinking,” Scully says.  “There’s really no reason why I can’t do laundry with you here and...there’s really nothing pressing in that journal that I need to get to right away.”

 

“Even if there was, I can be quiet.  You’d never even know I was there.”

 

“Somehow I doubt that, but that’s okay.”

 

“What’re you saying?”

 

“Would you like to come over tonight?”

 

“Well, I don’t know, I was planning on washing my hair and inflating my basketballs for the upcoming season.  I mean, I  _ suppose _ I can change my plans though.  If you insist.”

 

“Shut up, Mulder.”

 

“I’ll see you in 20.  Hey, Scully?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Should I pick up a pizza?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Okay, I.. ” he catches himself before he nearly says ‘I love you.’  It’s too soon for that. “Uh, I’ll see you soon.”

 

“Drive safely.”

 

“I will.”

 

A smile spreads across Mulder’s face as he hangs up.

 

The End

  
  



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